


Split Open and Without Shame

by CoffeeWithConsequences



Series: Paper Tigers [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Consensual Kink, Dominance, Gangbang, Group Sex, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn, Rimming, Shameless, Smut, Strap-Ons, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 02:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14582850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/pseuds/CoffeeWithConsequences
Summary: Pure filth. Wanting to take their thing to the next level and see how far he can push, Eames takes Arthur's desires and runs with them.





	Split Open and Without Shame

**Author's Note:**

> This is an installment of the [Paper Tigers](https://archiveofourown.org/series/985980) universe. Chronologically, it takes place sometime after [Your Fears Are Paper Tigers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583739). That said, it can be read on its own, particularly the second part.

**Part 1: Eames**

“So, darling, how far down does it go?” Eames’ voice was steady, but the note of lightness in it was more clearly false than he’d like. He lay on his back on the wide hotel bed, a cigarette between his fingers. He’d pulled his boxers back on after a swipe with the sheet to clean up, but was otherwise naked. He felt wrung out, like he always did at this point, but the questions clawing at his mind were insisting on coming out anyway.

“How far down does what go?” Arthur asked, reaching for the cigarette. He was loose and languid, moving like slow water. His breath had returned to normal, but his skin was still flushed. Eames could already see bruises developing at his hips.

“This…” Eames gestured between them, indicating what they’d just done. “The way you like it.”

Arthur frowned. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Eames.”

Eames frowned back and took another drag on the cigarette while he chose his words. “Being dominated. Being hurt a bit. All of that.” He forced himself to meet Arthur’s steady eyes. He knew Arthur would prefer not to talk about it outright--would probably prefer never to talk about it outright--but that wasn’t acceptable anymore.

Arthur nodded. “I don’t know,” he said, slowly. “I’ve never hit the bottom.”

Eames drew in a surprised breath. “How far…?” He trailed off, realizing the delicacy of the question as he began to ask it. Arthur would certainly refuse to answer, and probably be irked enough to pull on his trousers and leave.

Arthur didn’t leave. He leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t like the clubs and stuff,” he said. “I don’t much like the “culture” of it, I guess? So that’s a no. I’ve refused permanent body modification stuff--no tattoos or branding or any of that shit. But really...I have no idea how far I’d go, were it to come up.” He looked over and tilted his head curiously. “Does that scare you?”

“Yeah,” Eames said, automatically. “Jesus, yes.” He quirked his mouth, half-smile, half-frown. “But it intrigues me, too.”

Arthur nodded but said nothing.

“What about with me?” Eames asked, knowing he was on thin ice, but feeling brave. “Do you want to go farther?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Depends. What’s on offer?”

Eames smiled. “Always negotiating, aren’t you darling?”

Arthur shrugged. “Always on the lookout for interesting opportunities.”

“I don’t have anything specific in mind,” Eames admitted. “I just...I didn’t know, at the beginning, how I’d feel about this. I know now.”

Arthur smiled. “You’ve taken to it.”

“I guess so.”

“You aren’t happy about that?”

“I’m honestly not sure.” Eames thought about leaving it there, but decided there was no point in not telling the whole truth. “It starts to make other people seem...like they aren’t trying very hard.”

Arthur laughed. “Ruining you for anybody else, am I?” He eyes were unusually merry. God, Eames loved him like this.

“Something like that.”

“To answer your question,” Arthur continued, his eyes still smiling, “sure. There’s more I’d like to do. There’s always more. But… you get that me not deciding is part of this, right?”

Eames nodded. “Makes it a bit hard to know where to go next, you not wanting to talk about it.”

“I know.” Arthur bit his lip. “I’ll think of something.”

They changed topics then, talked about an upcoming job, about an email they’d both recently received from Ariadne, about the potential reconciliation of the Koreas. Thirty minutes later, Arthur got up and redressed. Three minutes after that, he was gone.

The subject of Arthur took more and more of Eames’ mind. It made sense--he was a puzzle, and Eames wasn’t working for a while, so he had nothing more pressing to consider. He went to Mombasa, smoked up with Yusef, lounged around and worked on his tan in the courtyard of his little house. He played poker (without cheating) and reacquainted himself with the local girls. It was all pleasant enough. But Arthur was there, in the back of his mind, a pleasant buzz that occasionally became an electric shock.

After a couple of weeks, Eames received an email. It was from a dummy account, just a string of numbers, and the IP address traced to Morocco. There was no greeting, just a list:

_Public places_  
_Being watched_  
_Performing with direction_  
_Gangbangs_

_Safeword is Armani_

“Jesus,” Eames breathed, reading the short email once, then two more times, more slowly, as if there were more clues hidden in there somewhere. He pushed a palm against his hardening cock, trying to quell the distraction. There was nothing on the list to which Eames objected--the first two were within his experience, the appeal of the last two was pretty clear. But one thought out shouted all the other in Eames’ mind--Arthur was asking.

It took a while to create the opportunity he wanted, but Eames was surprisingly patient. Two months later, a week or so into a job in Chicago, he sent a casual text.

_Darling, remind me never again to accept a long-term job in a city this bloody cold._

He wasn’t sure he’d get an answer, but one came within an hour.

_It’s supposed to be cold. It’s January._

A neutral response, but Eames took it as encouragement.

_Easy to say from L.A._

Arthur responded faster this time.

_I miss snow._

That one was undeniably encouragement.

_Plenty to share. Working?_

Eames knew Arthur wasn’t working. Arthur knew Eames knew. But he had to leave an out.

_No. Same hotel?_

Shocked it had been so easy, Eames hadn’t even typed a reply yet when Arthur’s next message came.

_See you soon, Mr. Eames._

From someone else, it may not have been overwhelming. From Arthur, it was practically seduction.

Eames wasn’t terribly surprised when he came in two days later to find Arthur at the desk in his hotel room, bent over his laptop. Arthur had made himself comfortable, his jacket off and sleeves rolled up, a drink to his left.

“Arthur.” Eames waited, testing Arthur’s mood before he approached.

Arthur smiled. Not a full, deep-dimpled smile, but not a smirk, either. “Good to see you, Eames.” He appeared to mean it.

Eames would have like to cross the room and kiss him. He would have liked to take his time reacquainting himself with Arthur’s lean body. But that wasn’t how this worked.

The reunion sex was hard and brief and hot, and, while Arthur was still pliable, with mussed hair and hooded eyes, Eames deepened his voice back into its lower pitch. “Come back in two days,” he said. He wanted to ask instead of tell, to make sure what he was planning was what Arthur actually wanted. He knew better.

Arthur wrinkled his forehead for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “OK,” he said, rising and beginning to dress.

Eames was nervous. It was a feeling he had so seldom he nearly didn’t recognize it. His stomach swam and he was warmer than he should have been. It was equal parts irritating and pleasant. The preparations themselves had been simple enough to arrange--just a few quick words to acquaintances and phone calls to numbers scribbled on matchbooks--but now that everything was set, he couldn’t quite shake his apprehension. He wondered how much of his deepening attraction to Arthur came down to just this--the joy of being with someone who could still give him butterflies.

Arthur was keyed up as well, though only someone who knew his tells as well as Eames would have noticed. He was perfectly dressed as always, his hands steady as he accepted a drink, but his pupils were wide, and he glanced around the room, looking for clues. Eames smiled. This was exactly what he’d hoped for.

They made idle conversation. Eames knew the longer he made Arthur wait, the more he’d wind himself up. But tonight there was too much to do, so he didn’t offer Arthur a second drink once the first glass was empty. Instead, he stood and walked across the suite, opening the bedside drawer and removing a silk scarf.

He didn't ask Arthur before he blindfolded him. Arthur submitted easily. There was no new ground here, but Eames felt, as always, the subtle thrill of having this steel-willed man depending on him for even one of his senses.

After Arthur was blindfolded, Eames undressed him. His fingers were quick and efficient, used to Arthur’s layers of fabric and buttons. He didn’t stop until Arthur was stripped nude, half-hard, still quiet.

“Back up to the bed and sit down,” Eames directed. Arthur did it, far more graceful than a naked man in a blindfold had any right to be.

“Now we wait for our guests,” Eames said, sitting back down in his chair and pouring himself another drink.

Arthur reacted to the words as Eames hoped he would, shivering noticeably, his cock jumping. Eames continued, keeping his voice soft and nearly bored. “You will do what you’re told. You will not speak. Do you understand?”

Arthur swallowed hard and nodded.

“If you have a problem with this, you’d better say so now,” Eames continued. “Otherwise, you’re my fucking toy. And I’ll do what I like with you.”

“Yes.” Arthur said, soft, but clear. “I understand.”

**Part 2: Arthur**

Arthur focused on regulating his breathing. He turned his head instinctively toward the opening door, but with the blindfold on he couldn’t tell how many people entered the room. Eames was speaking to them, softly, and he thought he could separate two voices. Maybe three. He tried to hold still.

“This is Arthur,” Eames said, his voice bored. Arthur knew the tone was fake, but it sent something through him anyway, the idea that he was naked and blindfolded, and Eames was discussing him with strangers without really even caring about it. “He’s a greedy little slut, so it’s all access.”

Arthur swallowed. He knew, more or less, what the new people in the room were seeing. His naked body, his flushed face, his hard, exposed cock. He licked his lips without realizing it.

“See?” Eames continued. “He’s already wetting his lips. He loves to suck cock.”

Arthur felt a rough hand in his hair. For a moment, he thought it was Eames, but when he inhaled, the smell of the body closing in on his wasn’t right. Eames smelled of smoke and ink and musky cologne. This man smelled of something lighter and cleaner, laundry detergent and grass. Another hand cupped Arthur’s cheek. “You gonna blow me?” The voice was soft, vowels rounded. “You look like you want to.”

Arthur nodded and pushed his face forward until he felt fabric. He nuzzled against it, blind, but able to feel that he was in the right place, the man hardening beneath him. After a moment, the men stepped back, Arthur presumed to take his trousers off. Before he could miss the touch, more hands were on him. Someone was climbing behind him on the bed, their weight pressing into the mattress, and hands were running down his back. “You’re a pretty one,” a new voice said. This voice was lower, and the hands felt larger.

The man behind Arthur continued to stroke his back as the one in front returned, and Arthur felt the unmistakable head of a cock, rubber covered, push against his lips. He opened automatically, running his tongue experimentally around it, getting used to the size and shape. It was about average, easy enough to take. As he started to move, the man behind him brought his arms around Arthur, holding him tightly so he was forced to stay still. The one in front threaded his fingers into Arthur’s hair again, holding firmly as he began to thrust into Arthur’s mouth.

It was a dizzying and not completely pleasant sensation, being held in place from behind while mouth-fucked from the front. Arthur reached out, wanting to grab something for balance. He was reaching for the hips of the man he was blowing, but found one hand caught up immediately. For a moment, he was confused--that was too many hands--then he realized there was another person he hadn’t realized was there. It wasn’t Eames. This person’s hand was smaller and softer, but the grip was firm. When the person spoke, Arthur wasn’t wholly surprised to hear a female voice. “None of that,” she said. “You only touch when you’re told.”

Arthur didn’t really sleep with women. He had, but it wasn’t something he sought out. Something about this twist, though, about there being a woman in the room, made him feel more out of control than anything else. Where was Eames? He couldn’t hear him, or feel his body anywhere near.

Arthur tried to concentrate on what he was doing, on not choking around the cock being shoved progressively farther down his throat, on not thrashing against the man holding him up from behind, or the woman who kept her hand tight around his wrist. After a few minutes, the man whose cock he was sucking began to breathe more quickly, and Arthur knew he was close.

“Get out of his mouth now.” Eames’ voice came from across the room--he must have gone back to sitting in his chair. A tremor ran through Arthur when he realized that Eames was watching everything happening to him. “Nobody comes yet. He likes it too much.”

The cock disappeared, and Arthur felt the man step to the side. The woman dropped his hand and he felt her kneel down in front of him. “Do you kiss girls?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, just leaned forward, her lips meeting Arthur’s.

Arthur’s mouth was tingling from being fucked, but he obliged, and was amazed at the newness of the sensation. Her lips were soft, and he could feel, just in the air around her, how small she was. He wanted to reach toward her, to feel her hair and face, but both of his hands were caught, pulled behind him and trapped. “We told you, no touching.”

The woman moved forward and pushed against Arthur’s chest. “Lay down.” The man behind him moved, and Arthur let himself be pushed onto his back. He thought the woman would follow him, but she moved away.

Then there were just hands. Hands running over his face and down his chest. Hands running up his legs. They moved slowly, almost mesmerizing him, until he could barely tell where one stopped and the next began. Nobody touched his cock, but the hands were everywhere else. After a while, his knees were pushed up, and Arthur felt deft fingers move behind his balls.

“Sweetheart, come sit on my lap and we’ll watch this show.” Eames' voice was still coming from across the room, and it took Arthur’s hazy mind a minute to realize what he was saying. The smallest of the hands disappeared. Arthur smiled. Trust Eames not to be able to just watch.

“I see that grin,” Eames’ said. “Can one of you please stop that for me?”

The hands stroking behind Arthur’s balls remained, but the bed shifted and he felt a heavy body straddle him. A hand lifted his chin, and he was once again being fed a wrapped cock. This one was larger, heavier on his tongue, and the angle didn’t allow him to take it deep, so he licked and sucked on just the head and the first couple of inches. He moaned around it as a slick finger began to press inside him.

“Not too much prep.” Eames’ voice sounded breathier now, and Arthur wondered if he was touching the woman, or if she was touching him. The idea only made his cock harder, and the moment of distraction allowed another finger to probe him without pain. “Just get him a little wet and then fuck him. He can take it.”

The fingers scissored and twisted quickly, opening Arthur only part way before they disappeared. The cock disappeared too, then, Arthur moving toward it and wrapping his lips around thin air as the weight lifted from his hips.

“Me first.” The voice belonged to the larger man, the one whose cock had just been in his mouth. As the men moved, Arthur heard a sharp, feminine intake of breath, close by, then Eames’ laugh.

“Yeah, go on,” Eames said, and the woman returned to the bed.

“No, me first.” She leaned down and whispered in Arthur’s ear, so close he could feel the touch of her tongue. “Do you want me to fuck you, too?”

“Don’t ask him,” Eames ordered. He didn’t seem to have moved. “He doesn’t make decisions. Fuck him on your pretty rubber cock.”

Arthur took in a sharp breath. This was new. He felt his hips cant up, as if his dick were pulling toward her.

“Why Arthur, you absolute slag.” Eames sounded amused. “A girl with a fake dick does it for you, huh? Go ahead, love. You lads want a drink?”

Arthur heard ice and clinking glasses. He had only a moment to consider it, though, before he felt the woman’s body settle between his legs, and the unyielding tip of her dildo begin to press inside him.

He’d been penetrated with a toy before, but this was different. It was big, and it hurt going in. A small hand rested on his abdomen. “Relax for me,” she said, and pushed in completely, slow and firm. Arthur bit his lips hard to keep from crying out. She stroked a soft fingertip around where he was stretched, slicking him further.

“No need to be gentle,” Eames ordered, and it sounded as if he was settling himself back into the chair.

Taking his instruction, the woman began to move. The first few thrusts still hurt, but Arthur acclimated quickly. Her hands pressed against the insides of his knees, opening him further, and she pressed in harder, changing her angle and eliciting a surprised noise from him. “There we go,” she murmured, and drove in again.

Arthur made no effort to keep still. He bucked his hips up to meet her and groaned. He reached out without thinking, wanting to grab her for leverage, and once again was reprimanded. “Go grab his hands, he doesn’t fucking listen,” Eames said from his chair. A moment later, the bigger man’s hands took both of his and held them, hard, above his head. All Arthur could do was thrust up with his hips and bite at his lips.

Arthur’s cock was straining and weeping. He open and closed his mouth around nothing, fighting to keep quiet. The second man was back now, his hands once again on Arthur’s skin. He spoke in a low voice. “Such a pretty little fuck toy. God, you’re already desperate for it, and you’ve barely begun.” He gave Arthur’s nipple a vicious twist. Arthur hissed and bowed his body nearly off the bed.

“He’s moving too much,” the woman gritted. “Hold him down for me.” Both men moved, and Arthur felt strong hands on each side of him, one at his shoulder and one at his hip. He could no longer thrust up to meet her, he could no longer arch his back. All he could do was lay still, a hole for her to fuck into. He shuddered.

“That’s right, use him.” Eames’ voice was low and dangerous, still sounding slightly amused. “Don’t worry, he likes it.”

Arthur began to lose track of time. The thrusts in and out of him were rougher now, and the angle was relentless. He thought, dimly, that she could go on forever.

After some time, Arthur heard Eames’ voice again. “Can you come on that thing, love?”

“No,” the woman gasped. “But that’s OK.”

“Come over here, then.” Arthur could hear Eames’ smile. “Have a break.”

The thrusting between Arthur’s legs stopped, and the dildo was pulled out. He whimpered at the loss and immediately felt a hand roaming between his legs, rubbing at his already sore hole.

“Give him a minute to cool down, too,” Eames instructed. “Arthur, are you listening?”

Arthur listened. He heard the woman gasp. “Oh, fuck, yes.”

“He’s eating her pussy,” the softer sounding man’s voice was near Arthur’s ear. “Finishing her off.”

Arthur was amazed by how much harder that made him. He was shivering, covered in sweat, and his hips were once again chasing the air. One man stayed near his head, whispering details of what Eames was doing to the woman. The other was between his legs, rubbing his hole, sliding fingers in and out.

It was unmistakable when the woman came. Unlike Arthur, she hadn’t been tasked with silence.

“You liked listening to that, didn’t you, you little slut?” Eames sounded breathless. “You can’t get enough of any of this. One of you lads better shove something in him, before he levitates off the bloody bed.”

Arthur was filled again almost immediately. The bigger man did not hesitate, he just fucked into Arthur fast and hard. He pulled Arthur’s legs up to his shoulders to get deeper and slammed in, knocking the breath from Arthur’s body.

It was all Arthur could do not to scream. His hands scrabbled at the sheets, he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. “Turn him over,” he heard the man near his head tell the one who was fucking him. “I want some more of his mouth.”

It happened fast, both of them handling Arthur’s body as if he had no will of his own. They shoved him onto his knees, and the larger man held hard to his hips and fucked back into him. A moment later, Arthur felt fingers force his mouth open, and then found himself nearly choked by a hard cock.

“Look at you,” Eames murmured from across the room, barely audible over the rushing in Arthur’s ears. “All stuffed full of these boys’ cocks. You’re made for this.”

Arthur gasped when he could, which wasn’t often. His senses were overwhelmed, his body strung like a wire between the two men. Every inch felt electric and he could barely tell where one part of him ended and the next began. He had no idea how long it lasted, but he felt the man fucking him come, shoving hard and artless into him, and he choked and sputtered around the cock in his mouth as his body was pressed across the bed.

After the cock was pulled from his mouth, Arthur tried to catch his breath. With a final thrust, the man fucking him pulled out. Arthur slumped, lying flat on the bed, his long-neglected cock finally finding friction. He rubbed against the sheets wildly, by instinct more than thought. He could do it for only a moment before hands under his hips shoved him back up to his knees.

“Your cock looks like it hurts,” the man with the softer voice observed. Fingers ran over it, ghostly soft. “You’re so hard.”

Arthur couldn’t strangle his moan.

“No touching his prick,” Eames barked. “It doesn’t matter if this makes him so hard he hurts. That’s what he’s for.”

The fingers disappeared and Arthur whined.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eames said pleasantly. “You’re doing so well, don’t ruin it now.”

Arthur swallowed his sounds.

“It’s my turn to fuck you now,” the man said, rubbing his hand over Arthur’s lower back. “But I think I want to keep fucking your mouth.”

“Have to keep his greedy ass happy while you do.” It was the woman’s voice again. “I’ll have a go at that.”

Arthur let the man move him again, keeping him on his knees on the bed, with his legs spread as wide as he could manage. The man jerked his head up. “I’m not going to do the work this time,” he instructed. “You’d better suck me right, or I’m going to make her stop.”

Arthur wasn’t even done wondering what that meant when he felt something cool and smooth cover his exposed hole, then warm pressure. Jesus. He was being rimmed by a woman. He couldn’t think about that now, though. All he could think about was the cock back in his mouth, holding still now, waiting for him to perform.

It took all Arthur’s considerable powers of concentration to give a decent blow job at this point, but he did his best. The other man had returned, and he and the woman appeared to be switching off at Arthur’s ass, her tongue faster and lighter, his a hard, heavy pressure. Arthur felt her hair against his thighs, and then stubble from him. His cock jerked violently, and he sucked harder.

The man with his dick in Arthur’s mouth didn’t last too long. Arthur was good with this mouth, and this was his third time in it. He grabbed Arthur’s hair as he came, and Arthur pushed his ass back against the insistent, probing tongue.

“OK, get off him.” Eames sounded more serious than he had earlier.

Arthur swallowed hard around his argument. He was blindingly hard, exhausted, covered in sweat. Surely Eames couldn’t mean to stop this now.

Arthur felt the bodies move away from him, and then there was a hand on his forehead and his body was being turned over so he laid on his back again on the bed. It was quiet as fingers he recognized as Eames’ ran their way down his neck, down his chest. “Your prick is so hard,” Eames murmured. “I bet if I touched you just once you’d go off like a rocket.” His hand skirted the entire area. “So I’m not going to.”

This time Arthur did whine. It wasn’t a becoming sound, but he could only take so much.

Eames laughed. “You greedy, greedy thing. You’ve been all filled up for ages. Taking it so well. Do you have anything left?”

Arthur was still wondering if he should answer when Eames continued. “You’d better. Because I haven’t come either, Arthur. I’ve been watching you get fucked, watching you take it so beautifully. And I could just have one of these boys fuck me--that would scratch the itch. But I think I’d rather take a turn on you.”

Arthur shivered and arched. Eames went on. “I wasn’t sure I’d still want you,” he said, calm and conversational. “I thought maybe after I watched these lovely people take you all apart, I wouldn’t be interested in getting a piece for myself, but you know what?” Eames leaned forward, so he was speaking into Arthur’s ear. “Seeing you like this makes me want you more than ever.”

Arthur couldn’t even think. He was surrounded now by Eames, Eames’ smell, Eames’ voice, Eames’ fingers against his skin. The entire evening’s worth of wanting was distilled down to this. Just Eames.

“I’m going to let these nice folks watch,” Eames continued. “Since you’ve spent all evening showing off, I want a turn.” He leaned in again. “You’re fucking mine. And they’re about to see that.”

Eames didn’t hesitate. He lifted Arthur’s legs high, then bent them into his chest, folding him nearly in half. He shoved in hard, all the way to the hilt, and he groaned when he bottomed out. “Fuck. Yes.”

Much as he was already stretched and sore, Arthur was still shocked by that first thrust. The others had been good, but Eames knew exactly where to push, exactly how to hold his legs. Eames kept talking as he thrust. “You’re so beautiful, Arthur. Bent up like a goddamn pretzel and taking me in. Your lovely cock is so hard and red, and you’re trying so hard not to moan.” He leaned over, his weight heavy on Arthur’s bent legs. “Go ahead and scream now, love.”

Arthur didn’t realize how much he’d had to concentrate to keep quiet until he stopped. He gasped and moaned as Eames fucked him, not making words, just sound, until he started to beg. “Please, please, Eames. I need to come so fucking bad.”

“I’ll bet you do.” Eames' voice came out in breathy gasps, his hips never stopping. “If I put my hand on your prick, are you gonna be able to wait for me?”

“No,” Arthur admitted. “But please, Eames.”

“Then you’ll wait until I’m ready.” Eames picked up speed and changed his angle, and then he was grinding against Arthur’s prostate, sending shocks of overstimulation through him.

“Too much, too much,” Arthur panted, pulling his body back from Eames’ thrusts. “Jesus, Jesus, I’m going to…”

“”I know,” Eames said, his voice nearly as wrecked as Arthur’s now. A moment later, his hand wrapped hard around Arthur’s dick and his hips thrust in harder. “Fuck, FUCK!”

When Arthur came, Eames’ hand pulling on him only once and Eames’ cock still buried so deep inside him he felt it would never come out, he screamed. There was no other word for it, he wailed. Tears poured down his face, and he reached up and pulled Eames down to him, mindless of his bent up legs, crashing his lips into Eames’ so they could moan into each other’s mouths. It went on and on, his body shaking with it, his hips stuttering, his head thrashing. Eames kissed him through it.

By the time Arthur came back to himself, the room was quiet. The only breathing he heard was Eames’, close to him on the bed.

“Are...are they gone?” Arthur’s voice was tiny.

“Yeah.” Eames’ gentle hands removed the blindfold and Arthur blinked, grateful for the dimness of the room. “You OK?”

Arthur nodded.

“What can I get you before I leave? What do you need?”

Arthur spoke before he considered it, still overwhelmed, his heart hammering. “Stay. I want you to stay.”

Eames gave him a long look, but said only, “OK. Do you want to shower?”

Arthur nodded, suddenly heavy with exhaustion. “In a minute.” He reached toward Eames and Eames responded automatically, gathering him up into his chest. Arthur felt warm and safe and sated, and he was almost instantly asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come visit me on [Tumblr](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/) or read the rest of my fic here at [Archive of Our Own](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/works)!


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